


Coda

by glitteratiglue



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Break Up, Friendship, Gen, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Endings and beginnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coda

The sand of Risa is hot beneath her feet, the beach vibrant with a laughter and merriment she neither feels nor notices. It’s a perfect day in paradise, but her world has just been shattered in an instant. She looks down at Will's hastily written communique, full of apologies and platitudes and reads it for the third time, just to make sure she hasn’t got it wrong. If she’s honest with herself, part of her was expecting this, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Will's promotion to lieutenant commander and a transfer to the  _Hood_ has forced him to cancel his shore leave, and he thinks it will be easier for both of them if they end it now.

The cool taste of icoberry juice lingers on her tongue, but her stomach roils when she tries to drink the rest of the glass; she pours it away. She deletes the message. Reaching for the ties of the skimpy swimsuit she wore for him, she yanks it off, strides into the waves naked and watches the sun set on her hopes and dreams. She barely pays attention to the Risian skinny-dippers that surround her; she's not sure how much time passes but when she glances at the sky again, it's dark.

“You’re very beautiful, and he’s a fool.” It comes from behind her.

Deanna turns and finds herself looking into the coal-black eyes of a dark-haired man of her own species. He’s slight, but attractive enough that she blushes a little at her own nudity, which is even more ridiculous when she considers the fact that he’s Betazoid, and modesty doesn’t really exist in their culture.

He holds out a hand to her, and she takes it. “Rennan Lex. It’s not often one meets a daughter of the Fifth House, and such a lovely one at that.” His eyes are kind and his words are genuine, and Deanna finds herself smiling in spite of her pain.

"Deanna Troi." He knew her name before she said it, of course. Rennan is a Federation diplomatic attaché (not Starfleet, thank God), and they make polite conversation about their backgrounds for a minute or two. She's quite flattered, and not in the least bit surprised when he reaches straight into her thoughts and cuts to the chase.

_I don’t expect you to pretend you aren’t hurting. If you want to be alone, I’ll go now. But, if you want, I can make it hurt a little less tonight._

The gentle voice in her mind is honest and without expectation, and she finds herself saying yes. After all, it’s what _he’d_ do. It’s a small defiance, a choice she can make without Will when he already chose for both of them. She pulls Rennan close and kisses him as torchlight from the beach flickers on the open water.

They go to bed, and she’s reminded of how little awkwardness there is with someone who knows how to touch you without even having to ask. She tells herself she doesn’t miss whispered words and tentative questions against her skin, the erotic thrill she felt from Will at discovering all the places that made her scream and sigh. Rennan’s skilled, sensual touch of her mind is shocking and exhilarating after the familiar tenor of Will’s thoughts. It’s another act of separation, an intimacy far beyond letting another man touch her body. 

The next day, she contacts Starfleet liaison on Betazed and tells them she’ll reconsider their offer to take the two-year accelerated program in San Francisco. She exchanges her flowing silks for utilitarian cadet reds and throws herself into her studies.

It works for about a week, until her roommate places a glass of icoberry juice in front of her in the academy cafeteria. Suddenly, she can’t breathe, her face hot and her cheeks wet as she excuses herself from a table of confused-looking cadets. Deanna barely makes it back to her dorm room before she cracks, sobbing from _wanting_ him and loving him so much it hurts. She ends up calling her mother on subspace, who at least has the good grace not to say _I told you so._

 _Oh little one, I’m so sorry. I know you really loved him. But is Starfleet really going to make you happy? I think you’re being rash about this. That ambassadorial position at the Betazoid embassy would have been much more suitable._ Lwaxana’s casual dismissal of her career choice is almost comforting in her current situation, and Deanna lets the words wash over her.

Her lifelong study of psychology on a planet where everyone knows each other’s feelings gives Deanna a considerable advantage. She earns distinctions in every area of study, and takes extra options that allow her to graduate with the rank of junior grade lieutenant. The sharp edges of her pain soften with time. She dates a few men and a few women but keeps things strictly casual – after all, she’s got her career to focus on.

Will sends occasional letters, and she pretends not to see the loneliness and regret that seeps from every line about how well his career is going. She hates herself for caring.

  
  
***

  
  
2364 brings a third hollow pip and the news that Jean-Luc Picard has personally requested her to head up his counselling team on the flagship. It’s a massive step up from her previous assignments on starbases, and Deanna feels privileged to have been given the chance to shape the relatively new role of ship’s counselor.

The day before she boards the _Enterprise_ she scans the crew manifest, and notes her dispassionate reaction with interest when she sees Will’s name next to the Executive Officer space. She can’t help thinking that they’ve both done pretty well for themselves since it ended, and maybe that was the price they had to pay.

That all falls away when she sees him for the first time in over two years. He wears red now instead of gold, draws himself up a little straighter, his face more serious and careworn, but otherwise he’s the same Will Riker who can break her heart with one smile.

After the Deneb IV mission, his awkwardness screams from every pore, and she wonders how the gulf between them became so wide. 

He comes to her quarters one night when he’s had too much to drink and clumsily tries to explain why he did what he did. She knows, but it hurts too much to hear it; they’re both in tears by the time she kicks him out.

Distance is simpler.

Deanna learns to find satisfaction in her work and new friendships, and sublimates her emotions into frozen desserts whenever those things aren’t quite enough.

Will finds his solace in casual liaisons. It's a less subtle approach than hers, but just as effective.

***

The change is slow, waves lapping at rock rather than an avalanche. Gradually, Will stops looking for excuses to get away if they happen to end up alone together, and begins to react to her presence with genuine pleasure rather than guilt-suffused attraction. When he takes her hand and she feels the lack of the usual prickling frisson of expectation, it hurts her pride but she knows it’s a step forward. She smiles at him, and, for the first time in forever, really means it. 

It takes Will nearly leaving the ship for them to truly realise they still need each other. The day after he turns down command of the _Aries_ , he comes to her quarters and nervously asks if she wants to play chess. She beats him easily, to his chagrin; he wonders how she got such a taste for both Trakian ale and chess in the years they were apart. Deanna grins at him over the rim of her tankard and suggests they fill in the blanks for each other.

He brings up Risa and she can’t bring herself to lie to him, both about how much it hurt and what she did afterwards. Will is honest enough to admit that it took him months to do the same, at the risk to his ego, and seems amused by her obvious surprise.

When he leans in around the chessboard and their lips touch, it feels like another beginning. It’s warm and sweet, not entirely platonic but near enough for them both not to mind. 

“Friends, imzadi?” She can feel the anxiety beneath the ease of his words, and reaches for his hand to reassure him.

“Friends.”

It’s an ending of sorts, but it doesn’t feel like it. There's another story waiting to be written, and this time, the pages are theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> I figured Deanna had studied enough psychology on Betazed to skip a couple of years of the full academy program.


End file.
